Crazy for Cartouches

While reading A Curious Friendship, I was reminded of Rex Whistler's proclivity for cartouches, which he incorporated into his murals, like those he painted for Brook House, above, as well as his myriad illustrations:

See what I mean? The man was mad for cartouches.

Best described as an ornamental frame, the cartouche has been a presence throughout time, from Egyptian hieroglyphics to Baroque architecture and Rococo-style furniture.  From an aesthetic standpoint, the cartouche, with its typically sinuous lines, might look fanciful, but it does seem to serve an important artistic purpose.  When an artist wishes to introduce text or a scene into, say, a drawing, the cartouche provides the artist with the decorative framework to do so, allowing the text or scene to be decoratively, and cohesively, incorporated into the overall work.  This concept is best illustrated in two different Brunschwig & Fils textiles, shown below.  Without their surrounding cartouches, the Chinoiserie scenes of Chinese Leopard Toile and the ocean-faring ships of Clipper Ships would likely look at odds with their surroundings.  But with their frames, these scenes get absorbed into the overall design while still maintaining their distinctive looks.
 

Gaming table, German, c. 1755-58

Screen by Jacques de Lajoüe, French, c. 1740

Cartouche Design by Jean-François Cuvilliés, 18th century.

Cartouches can be found in textile design, most memorably (to me) in Brunschwig & Fils' Chinese Leopard Toile and Clipper Ships.

The ballroom of Atlanta's Calhoun house has plasterwork topped by a cartouche-motif.

The appliqués on this Schiaparelli dress are reminiscent of cartouches.

Decorating Enhanced by Personality

Nancy Lancaster once said, "I can't bear anything that looks like it's been decorated."  I wholeheartedly agree, which is why I prefer interiors where the decorating plays the supporting, although significant, role of creating a cohesive foundation for a room, while intriguing objects, collections, and personal effects bring the room to life.  If a room lacks this layer of all-important personality, the decorating becomes too prominent, something which renders a room- no matter how beautiful it might be- sterile and uninviting.

An example of decorating enhanced by personality can be seen in Casa degli Atellani, the Milan home of architect Piero Catellini Baldissera.  The 15th-century palazzo was purchased by Baldissera's grandfather, who was also an architect, in 1920.  Having spent much of his childhood visiting his grandfather's apartment in Atellani, Baldissera eventually had the opportunity to inhabit it.  As you can see in these 1999 photos, the rooms possessed a sense of order and calm that was a result of Baldissera's well-tuned decorating.  And yet, a lively tempo resonated throughout the home thanks to the homeowner's pleasing mix of antiques, books, and collections.

It's certainly a home that I can bear, and I assume that Nancy Lancaster would have agreed with me.


Image at top:  The home's trompe l'oeil winter-garden foyer.  The Directoire settee came from Napoleon's sister's house in Parma.

The Salon is richly appointed with curious objects and fabrics from C&C Milano, the textile company which was co-founded by Baldissera.

The dining room is outfitted with grand and humble antiques alike.

Baldissera's collection of historic marble samples.

The homeowner's bedroom.

A guest bath.

The courtyard garden of Atellani.


All photos from House Beautiful, December 1999, Jacques Dirand photographer.

Until Next Week...

I was planning to post this week, but considering that the internet seems to be a virtual ghost town because of the Fourth of July holiday, I'll wait until next week.

I do, however, want to bring to your attention a recent BBC article profiling Kinsey Marable, the man who, according to the BBC, "builds up private libraries, book by rare book."   In the article, you'll find excerpts from Marable's lists of recommended books for, say, a Guest Room Library or the Country House Library.  Suggested books include those by Beverley Nichols, Cecil Beaton, and Ludwig Bemelmans.

Whether you plan to play, relax, eat, or read your way though the holiday weekend, have a Happy Independence Day!


Image at top: Avenue in the Rain, Childe Hassam, 1917, the White House Collection.

Richard Lowell Neas in France

It's always a treat to stumble upon the work of the late decorator and decorative artist, Richard Lowell Neas. Over the years, I have collected photos of his Manhattan apartment as well as examples of his trompe l'oeil painting.  What remained elusive to me, though, were photos of his much-admired home in southwestern France. Thanks to a generous friend, who recently gave me a decade-worth of House Beautiful back issues, I finally have my hands on photos of Neas's charming French country house.

The c. 1770 stone house (see above), located in the town of Charente, was built for the village priest, which explains the structure's close proximity to a Romanesque church. When Neas found the house, it was in shambles. But rather than being deterred by the home's sad state, Neas saw it as an opportunity to breathe new life into an old home whose centuries-old structure remained mostly intact.

When I studied the photos of the home's décor, I was left with the impression that Neas must have reveled in creating his dream country house.  The fabrics have a definite French flair (most of them were by Brunschwig & Fils, for whom Neas designed those now-famous trompe l'oeil papers, including Bibliothèque,) while the kitchen and pantry are like French country cuisine: earthy, yet well-seasoned, too.  But what especially charms me are Neas's decorative jeux d'esprit, which can be seen throughout the house.  That stone floor in the dining room?  It's actually painted wood.  And that wooden-clad guest bedroom?  Its walls were painted to mimic wooden boards.

The living room was like taking a step back in time.  It was lit solely by candlelight, while the floor covering was apple matting, which was a favorite of Elizabethans.

Like the painted floor, the dining room chandelier was meant to fool the eye.  In fact, it was made of wood and painted to resemble blue and white ceramicware.

In the earthy kitchen, a trompe l'oeil painted cabinet hid the refrigerator.

Another view of the kitchen.

The pantry held Neas's collection of French earthenware, including what appears to be Aptware.

The centerpiece of the master bedroom was this canopied bed, which was lavished in Brunschwig & Fils' Kandahar fabric.  The paneled walls are actually trompe l'oeil, as are the hanging key (painted to the left of the door frame) and the painting above the door.

A guest bedroom.

Another guest room with trompe l'oeil painted walls and niches.  The dominant fabric was Mexicali by Brunschwig & Fils.

A view of the church from the terrace.

The terrace pot-garden.

All photos from House Beautiful, February 1993, Jacques Dirand photographer

Anne Allen and Jean Pillement

I slipped into New York last week to see both my sister and the exhibit, China: Through the Looking Glass, at the Met.  Friends who had seen the exhibit told me that I would flip for it, and they were right.  The clothes, the blue and white porcelain, the film clips...it was a feast for the eyes.  But for all of the dazzling dresses and the mesmerizing projected scenes from Anna May Wong movies, it was two inconspicuous-looking pieces that especially enchanted me: a pair of late 18th-century, Chinoiserie-style etchings done by Anne Allen.  According to their identification labels, the designs of both etchings were "after Jean Pillement."

Not being familiar with Allen, I Googled her once I returned home.  I learned that Allen, who was British by birth but a resident of France, was not only a skilled etcher but also the second wife of Jean Pillement, the artist whose fantastical paintings and illustrations of Chinese scenes captured the fancy of a Chinoiserie-mad Europe.  During the 1790s, in what must have been a joint-effort to market Pillement's work to a wider audience, Allen created etchings based on her husband's paintings, and by using the à la poupée style of printmaking (click here if you wish to learn more about it),  she was able to bring these delicate etchings to colorful life.  The prints were then assembled into a series of books, or cahiers, which were eagerly purchased by Pillement-fanciers and, most especially, porcelain, textile, and wallpaper manufacturers, who enthusiastically incorporated Pillement's capricious scenes into their own work.

Allen's etchings can be found in the collections of numerous museums, which is hardly surprising considering that her etchings, and the cahiers, were printed in volume so as to accommodate a large audience.  When you look at the images of her work below, you'll see that there are minor differences between the museums' classifications, although I think these differences are a matter of style rather than substance.  And, you'll also notice that in addition to the Chinoiserie scenes, Allen also etched her husband's floral renderings, which are just as colorful as their Chinoiserie counterparts though a lot less fanciful.


Image at top:  Chinoiserie from Nouvelle Suite de Cahiers Arabesques Chinois, 1790-1799, in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Chinoiserie from Nouvelle Suite de Cahiers de Dessins Chinois, 1790-1799, in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Chinoiserie from Nouvelle Suite de Cahiers Arabesques Chinois, 1790-1799, in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Ornamental Design from Nouvelle Suite de Cahiers Chinois no. 3, after 1775, in the collection of Cooper Hewitt

Title page from Nouvelle Suite de Cahiers Chinois, after 1775, in the collection of Cooper Hewitt

Chinese Arabesque with man kneeling beneath a double-roofed tent, from Nouvelle Suite de Cahiers chinois, no. 2, 1798, collection of Princeton University Art Museum


 

Chinoiserie Flowers, from Nouvelle suite de Cahier de Fleurs idéales, late 18th c., collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Fantastic Flowers, 1790s, in the collection of the Davis Museum at Wellesley College

Curling Up with a Good Book

For the past few days, I've been engrossed in engaging new book, A Curious Friendship: The Story of a Bluestocking and a Bright Young Thing. Written by Anna Thomasson, the book recounts the unconventional friendship between writer Edith Olivier, the Victorian bluestocking of the book's subtitle, and the much younger artist, Rex Whistler. Although I am only a quarter of the way into the book (at 463 pages, it is lengthy), the text thus far is delightful. If you have an interest in either Olivier or Whistler, I highly recommend reading this book.  By the way, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the book's dust jacket, which has to be one of the most charming I've seen in some time. The cover art is fitting considering that Rex Whistler was renowned for his whimsical, sometimes fantastical, and always charming paintings and illustrations.

Along with a number of photographs of Olivier and Whistler, the book also features one of Whistler's more well-known paintings, Conversation Piece at the Daye House, which depicts Olivier in the Long Room at her Wiltshire house, Daye House, along with her guests Lady Ottoline Morrell, Lord David Cecil, and Whistler himself. I've long admired this painting because Whistler's evocative painting style, coupled with the room's genteel and relaxed furnishings, captures a setting that is both mannerly (a virtue valued by both Victorian bluestockings and a few of us modern types) and favorable for relaxation. In other words, I find Olivier's Long Room- at least, Whistler's version of it- to be the ideal room in which to curl up with a good book, preferably one as pleasant as A Curious Friendship. (A cozy mystery would work equally as well.)

I spent some time finding examples of other rooms in which I would be quite happy to while away an afternoon or evening with my nose stuck in a good book.  Some of the examples are sprightly, while others are a bit more serious, but what they all share is their ability to lure visitors into their clutches, either through deep, rich color or comfortable, nostalgic fabrics.  And if you plan to lose yourself in a book, what better way to do so than in rooms designed beautifully for comfort and relaxation?

Conversation Piece at the Daye House, painted by Rex Whistler in 1937. The painting depicts Edith Olivier, Lord David Cecil, Lady Ottoline Morrell, and Rex Whistler.

The drawing room at the Dower House, Badminton.

David Hicks's library in his Oxfordshire house.

Scott Nelson's dressing room, located in the Manhattan apartment of Nelson and Alex Papachristidis, who decorated the room.

The living room in the country home of the late Timothy Mawson.

The Manhattan living room of the late Stanley Barrows, design professor and historian extraordinaire.

A cozy room decorated by Paolo Genta.